


Artless

by Mars_hylian



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Alien/Human Relationships, English is not the author's first language, M/M, Pre-Slash, we needed more cultural differences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 14:14:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15269223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mars_hylian/pseuds/Mars_hylian
Summary: Lotor planned to continue his research in the lounge room. He didn't expect it to be already occupied.





	Artless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miss_Macabre_Grey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Macabre_Grey/gifts).



> For my dear Miss_Macabre_Grey! Happy Birthday!! Thank you for being the great person you are!
> 
> Takes place between The White Lion and the start of S6.

The emperor sat across Lance, unable to contain a faint smile. Lance's clicking distracted Lotor, so much so he focused on it like a ticking timer. The cord stuck to Lance's sweaty fingers, ruinning the weaving, and Lance grumbled as he unraveled it. Still, the paladin kept casting curious glances at Lotor, as if he was the distracting one.

Lance hunched over the blanket, his feet propped up in the sofa and his curls ruffled. Lotor's nails clickcing against the tablet didn't seem to bother him; no more than his presence already did. What bothered Lance, to the point his face turned a frustrated red, was that the emperor gazed back.

Lance returned to his business, only to find he'd made a mistake, which led to more grumbling and unraveling. Lotor stared a while longer, until the clicking of his nails joined Lance's and his smile widened. It was interesting to see the paladin struggle under simple observation.

The boy shifted in the sofa, propped himself up a bit, crossed his other leg, ruffled his feet against the cushions or buried himself deeper in the blanket. Still, his attention always went back to Lotor, his gaze not particularly intense, but unmistakable and unavoidable. 

None of them said a word. Then Lotor peeped at Lance, and Lance rewarped the cord in his fingers. The clicking resumed.

At some point Lotor started the gazing on his own, curiosity getting the best of him. His research was crucial, and shouldn't be so heinously ignored. Yet, the movements from Lance's hands were intriguing and new; not more interesting than infinite quintessence beyond the barrier of understanding, but they had the plus of human behavior first hand.

Lance stopped a moment to dry his hands on his clothes, actively ignoring Lotor. The grumbling continued.

"You don't need to be so nervous, paladin. I can hardly judge your actions since I had never observed such practice."

Lance froze a moment, frown deepening. "Then why are you here?"

Lotor sighed —something most species had in common. "Unfortunately, as comfortable as my quarters may be, they are far away from the princess, should I need her for consultation. This is an appropriate location to continue my research."

The paladin gave him a venomous look, his lips tight. Lotor made a dry sound at that.

Turning back to the tablet, Lotor was determined to make some progress. He managed to go through a few more calculations, feeling himself getting absorbed, until he realized he'd made a mistake and his eyes wandered back to Lance and his dancing fingers in an instant.

Even with clear signs of self-consciousness in his face, Lance tried to keep his cool. He dried his hands again and again, but soon sweat was rolling down his forearms. The emperor frowned. Most mammal species sweated, including some Galra races, but he'd never witnessed such amounts of perspiration from mere stress —aside from anxious-enhanced cases of the slipperies. Was that common in humans?

"Yes?! Can I help you with something?!" Lance shrieked, startling Lotor. "You of all people should know that staring is rude, Mr. Emperor!"

"I was just wondering if you could do that without looking." His voice was tighter than he would have liked. Lance didn't seem to notice. Lotor finally looked away, cleared his throat. "I admit, paladin, I did have an ulterior motive for staying here."

The boy snorted. "Oh, so you could see me knit?!"

Insolence was something no emperor would accept from his own people. On the other hand, it was something that thrilled Lotor about working with Voltron as comrades. He did not expect any more than mutual respect from them during his stay at the castle, and the team provided that, albeit a few exceptions. Banter was a habit for them, one Lotor had trouble acquiring, but that he could enjoy engaging into. Lance's voice had no friendly undertones, however.

Lotor set the tablet aside, maintaining his voice leveled. "Other cultures' customs are a... fascination of mine, you could say."

Lance raised an eyebrow. Ever so eloquent.

"Could I bother you by asking to show me?"

Lance raised his other eyebrow. "You want to learn to knit?"

He shouldn't, really. His research was priority and his entire plan depended on it. He was so close. Every waking moment should be spent working.

But then Lance put his feet down and patted the seat next to him. "Don't be mistaken," he said, looking elsewhere, "I still don't trust you. But if this will make you stop staring at me like a dumbfounded puppy, I'll teach you."

The emperor grinned.

"I assure you, I'm not going to harm you," said Lotor as he sat beside the paladin, his knee pressing against Lance's, from which the boy recoiled. He couldn't resist a little jabbing; Lance's reactions where all too fascinating. "If I wished to do so, I'd have taken one of the million opportunities I've had in the past hour,"

Lance clicked his tongue. "Do you want me to teach you or not?"

The boy handed him sticks and spare cord. Lotor inspected them, small in his hands.

"Watch out for splinters," said Lance, as he grabbed another set. "I sanded them the best I could, but you never know."

"Is it custom to make your tools yourself?"

Lance shook his head. "I had to, since there aren't human yarn shops in outer space. Those ones," and he pointed at the blanket left aside, "were a present from Hunk and Pidge. Metal is much more pleasant to work with, but wood serves just as well. Now, start with a slip knot."

The process was simple enough, and Lance explained it well, giving time for Lotor to make mistakes and start over. It was harder than it looked. Lotor's fingers trembled, clumsy to carry the yarn around.

"And you can make anything with this?"

"If it comes to fabric, sure. But not everything would look good. Turn the work like this."

Lotor's stitches were very even and very tight, Lance said. How wouldn't they be when Lotor's nails got caught in the yarn?

"Chill, man. It will look better if you loosen up. You'll go faster."

"Like this?"

"Looser. Try moving your other hand too."

The paladin reached for Lotor's hands and was touching him before any could process it. Lance's hands were clammy but soft, more so than the softest spots on Lotor's skin. Lotor blinked at them. Warm, with slender fingers—

Lance removed them hurriedly. "Sorry," he muttered. "Uhm, watch me." He made a few stitches in his own work. "See how both hands move?"

Lotor didn't know what to make of Lance at the moment. He acted defensively whenever Lotor was in the room, specially when it came to the princess. His current behavior didn't make sense. He'd accepted to teach Lotor, his posture was relaxed for a trained paladin of Voltron sitting by a so-called enemy, he'd broken personal boundaries and was clearly ashamed of it. Asking was out of the question.

"You make it look so easy." Lotor offered as he imitated the movement. "How long have you been doing this?"

"I don't know. Years. My mom taught me before I went to the Garrison. It was useful to have a quiet hobby, you know? Do you have any hobbies? Aside from conquering the galaxy?"

The emperor added that one to Lance's incomprehenssible tally.

"My objective is not conquering any galaxy, Lance. I merely seek to reunite my kingdom and give them the home we lost." Lotor let his hands fall on his lap. "As for your question, I like exploring. I used to travel a lot in my youth, learning all about new cultures and places I'd never imagined. But for now, I have to focus on ending this war."

The room went silent. Lance's expression was something entirely new for Lotor, something he didn't have a name for. His eyes seemed bright and lost for a moment.

"Look" said Lance, almost in a whisper. "I don't like you much personally, but right now the best way we have to end this is by working together. That's why we're here, right? Knitting may not have been part of the plan, but you're supposed to take time to yourself too."

Lotor looked at Lance in utter astonishment. The red paladin, of them all, trying to comfort him. He didn't need to be comforted. Lotor had lived the war. He grew up beside it; it grew with him as Zarkon's Empire held itself on crumbled sand, usurping quintessence like parasites. No. Lotor didn't need consolation but to take action; not to be sitting making fabric while the Galra destroyed each other, deepening the crevasse through which they'd slip towards extinction.

"I'm the emperor, Lance. My people need me. I'm not supposed to take time off."

"You are taking time off right now, no?" Lance jabbed his elbow gently on Lotor's side. "Plus, you're not telling me all that beauty maintains itself."

The paladins would never understand, of course. Their vision was broader, more superficial than Lotor's could be after ten thousand years. But, as little sense as it made to Lotor, Lance's remarks where genuine. All it took for him to warm up to Lotor had been simple conversation. Not even a particularly good one, either.

So Lotor laughed, deep an honest, at the ridiculousness of the situation, at the naivety of Lance and his own, at how they sat side by side, amicably conversing while the quintessence awaited, nearly at his hand's grasp and at how it all depended on the princess now. But Lance though he celebrated his joke, and his cheeks reddened yet again. Of course, Lotor noticed.

"Are you flustered, Lance?"

"Me? Psh, of course not. I don't get flustered. Let me see how you're doing?"

It was a disaster compared with Lance's neat stitches. "Don't sweat it. Just give it a wash and it will loosen up a bit."

"What do you mean? I can keep it?"

Half an hour later Lotor trotted off with the tablet, a new handkerchief and the sense he had gained something despite his research being incomplete.


End file.
